


To Cope

by daisybrien



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, Spooning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 20:16:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6721756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisybrien/pseuds/daisybrien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As much as they change, they still stay the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Cope

There’s an uneasiness that settles following Annie’s attack on the city, one that seems to cling to skin like sweat, weighing on their backs like brilliant and preventable failure. The day drags with it a long, heavy night to replace it, the chaotic bustle of soldiers and the distant streets outside slowly dimming to nothing more than the coos of animals and the few citizens that wander through the alleyways for some scrap of escape. The darkness and quiet does nothing to calm nerves. The glow of twilight is eerie, not bright enough to cast away monsters hidden in shadow but too bright to let it embrace them and shield them from the world. In the distance, there are thrums of rubble collapsing, the echo of scared and injured voices so soundless Eren can’t tell if he is imagining them or not, and despite the exhaustion that settles like an ache in his bones and behind his eyelids, his body refuses to submit to the throes of nightmarish sleep.

This is not the first night that his rushing mind has kept him awake, and he knows it certainly will not be the last. The burn of exhaustion and tears prickling at his eyes is not new, the trickle of them against the clammy skin of his face almost comforting in its familiarity. He swallows against the hard lump lodged in the root of his throat, gulping down a hiccough that threatens to gasp its way out of his heaving chest. It makes him choke, forcing his mouth shut against a sob that threatens to rise, because he doesn’t think that he will be able to stop them if they begin.

He can’t risk making noise. He is lonely, aching for someone to talk him out of his misery, for the hand tangled in his hair and the body weighing on his mattress by the foot of his bed to be their usual distracting peace. But he knows how enticing the call of sleep is and its blessed relief on the mind when it does decide to grace him, and he doesn’t want to yank that away out of his own selfishness. He’s caused enough of a mess as it is; the least he could do is leave the few people on his side be.

He sucks in a desperate breath, squeezing his eyelids against the migraine pounding inside his skull. It pulls a wave of nausea over him, aggravated by gruesome bloodiness flashing with the yellowed vividness of old photographs in the darkness of his closed eyes. He squeezes them tighter, the haunting memories stained with the kaleidoscope colours and lights as he does so. He curls onto his side, groaning as he wraps an arm around his turning stomach.

The bed protests under his movement, uttering a whining squeak that grates against his ears and makes his headache throb. He winces at the sound, holding his shaking breath and growing stiff, hoping stillness will keep the bedframe from its noisy tantrum. 

He doesn’t end up facing the wall; there is a nest of black, sleek hair resting on the sheets by his nose, the scent of its sweet oil and sweat calming and familiar. Mikasa’s hand twitches where it lies, limply tangled in his own mop of hair, her stubby fingernails scratching against his scalp. When he winces, hissing through his teeth, he sees her back rise in a heavy sigh, her dark eyelashes fluttering as she looks up to squint at him.

“Eren?” Her voice is thick, her concern aching and stifling. Her head shoots up so she can look at him, the sharp angles of her face contorted in concern.

“Sorry,” he mutters, the response automatic. He buries his face against his pillow. 

“Eren, are you alright?” One cold, nimble hand slips between his cheek and the cushion, forcing his head up again. “You’re crying.”

“I’m-“ Eren hisses, pushing against her insistent hand, stubbornly trying to turn away again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to wake you. I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Mikasa whispers. She inches closer, her nose brushing against his as she pulls sweaty bangs away from his tacky forehead. “Talk to me.”

“Please,” he says. He tries to turn around, struggling against the sheets that are pinned around him, tight to the mattress. “Just let me rest. Go to sleep.”

There’s another sigh, growing into a muffled grunt. The bedframe utters another pathetic whine, the shuffle of sheets shushing it as the third body tucked upright by the edge of the bed starts to wake, unfurling from its fetal curl. In the subtle moonlight from the window, Armin’s hair glows like dull gold, blue orbs of his eyes like a wizened owl scoping the darkness.

“She would if she knew you would be able to,” Armin grumbles. He rests his cheek against his knees, hugging his legs. Eren turns away from his gaze when he sees his face collapse, his own eyes growing misty.

“He’s been crying?” he murmurs over Eren, who tries to turn onto his stomach. 

“Just leave me alone,” he groans, clenching his teeth against the words as they come out resembling a drawn out sob. His muscles scream with the movement, leaving him leaning on his side angled to the wall, like a scared and foolish child looking for refuge away from their prying eyes. Their gazes bore into his back, and he bristles. He hates the pity. He hates that he needs it.

“Tell us what’s wrong,” Mikasa whispers again. Her arm winds its way over him, fingertips gently brushing his red, flushed cheeks. “We stayed here for a reason.”

“Please, go back to sleep,” he mutters pathetically, choking on the lump behind his Adam’s apple. It blocks the air from reaching his lungs, sets his chest burning, and soon he is gulping down precious air in desperate hiccoughs. The dark room blurs into black and grey against his tears; the details the midnight light from the window granted him spoiled, the two of them nothing but dark blobs against the haunting shadows.

“You say that like you think we actually can,” Armin laughs quietly, the twitch of a smile on his face fading. He seems to slump, lying back against the wall as he watches Eren with eyes ringed with circles the colour of deep black bruise. 

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not like it’s your fault, Eren,” Armin sighs. He closes his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall. His neck arcs towards the ceiling, thin and brittle, tendons taut under his pale skin like tense piano strings. Too thin. “What are you apologizing for?”

Eren closes his eyes, letting a tear slip out, hearing it patter against his pillow. His face crumbles, coughing his answer out against a whimper. “For everything.”

Their response is wordless; the only sound that accompanies it is the creak of the bed, groaning in annoyance and almost in pain as the two of them shift around him. He feels his bed tip away from the wall, Mikasa’s body rising out of her chair by the bed to rest alongside him from behind. Armin follows suit, unfurling from the spot he had glued himself since the afternoon they had towed Eren’s limp and worn body into the room to recover, lying down in front of him. He has no time to let his cries grow louder before they move in towards him in a shelter of a human cocoon. 

He feels like he is ten again, the three of them curled in a back alley with grumbling stomachs and tired bones, shivering bodies pressing in for warmth a constant throughout the years. It’s surreal to think of how they have grown, no longer the defenseless, incapable children they were, only scrounging on scraps to survive; but as he lies here, their bodies against him for comfort as they shield each other from nightmare and fear, it leaves him to wonder how much they’ve stayed the same.

“This is never going to end,” he groans, teething grinding against the fabric of Armin’s shirt, the soft smell of his skin soothing. His words are hushed with a kiss to the forehead, hands running through his hair and intertwining with his own, arms warm as they wrap around him like a vice. 

“We’re still here,” Armin says.

“We have you,” Mikasa murmurs against the back of his neck, their joined hands pressing against his chest to feel his hammering heart, anguished and aching but still beating, still pumping blood through his veins. He’s alive, and that should count for something, a testament to his will to live. She reassures him that they are no different in that respect. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Eren takes a deep breath, pushing down the anxiety building in the pit of his twisted stomach. He doesn’t close his eyes, afraid to let the horrors of his past plague his dreams again. He only spends the night awake with the two of them, returning gestures of consolation as he receives them, glad to be able to see another glaring sunrise if it only means that the three of them are still alive and breathing.

**Author's Note:**

> It's good to finally be out of a writer's block. I'm going to try to get back into the swing of things with writing.


End file.
